


Kink meme prompt fills

by dmajor7th



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Branding, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Gentle Sex, M/M, Pining, Telepathy, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmajor7th/pseuds/dmajor7th
Summary: An archive of prompt fills in the wake of Tumblr's imminent implosion.





	1. Jarrich - Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps not your standard definition of 'dirty talk'.

“It astounds me, Richard,” Jared manages between clenched teeth, the words condensing like steam against a frozen windscreen and trickling in, clammy and uncomfortable and commanding total, immediate attention. “How a man of such talent, such  _gift_ , such astounding potential to truly make a difference, could squander himself on such pettiness, such utter reckless folly.”

Richard looks up from his seat at the kitchen table. Jared is  _tall_. Tall and broad and disappointed, his platitudinous mask having seemingly slipped off and shattered some time between Hoolicon and the day after the night before.

“I know, it was dumb.” Richard examines the grain of the cheap pine tabletop.

“ _Dumb?_ ” Jared hisses, bending over and, crowding in with one massive hand on the back of Richard’s chair and the other bracketing against the table, brings his mouth close to Richard’s ear. Richard at once needs to pull away and lean in, settling into a compromised freeze.

“No Richard, not dumb.  _Pathetic._ Wilful. With great intention and utterly beneath you.”

The disgust that underlies each syllable is an affirmation, an honest nod to his failure, a cathartic valve release of  _Yes, Jared! You finally understand! I am not the fucking Messiah, I am the worst kind of charlatan!_

“Your actions added no value to our mission.”

_No value!_

“You put Pied Piper’s shares under serious threat of becoming worthless.”

_Worthless!_

“And I almost lost hope that we would get through the event without being arrested.”

_Abandon all hope all ye who enter!_

Jared stands, and Richard wants nothing more than to scrape his teeth along that babyfaced-jawline, to kiss those enormous hands in repentance and a new-found reverence for the sudden enlightenment that has cast it’s shadow over Jared,  _finally_.

The look in Jared’s eyes contain all the emotions you would never want to make another person feel. Richard’s stomach wrings out all remaining, residual calmness he may have felt before. He needs to be slapped around the face, but is too ashamed to ask.  

“I have always believed in you, Richard - with everything I have left in me to even believe in the goodness of mankind.” His whole body sighs. “I thought you were different.” He turns towards the door.

“Jared?” Richard murmurs, barely hearing himself over the beat of his heart. Jared turns back, looking at him.

“Are you… are you disappointed in me?”

Jared doesn’t reply.


	2. Jarrich - Telepathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some unnerving Jarrich interactions!

“So you’ve got the-“

“Right here, Richard.” Jared slides the folder into the bag.

“And you’ve remembered the -“

“Say no more.” Jared chirps, coiling the spare laptop charger around his palm.

“Don’t forget to pack th-“

“Already taken care of!” Jared tips the open bag towards Richard, who sighs in quiet relief upon seeing the extra peripherals. And then a glimmer catches his eye, small and metallic, shimmering and serrated. The sight carves a frown into his forehead.

“Err, Jared. Why did you put thos-“

“Oh, I thought you might need them.”

“For  _what_?”

“I assume you understand the purpose of prophylactics.”

Richard sips his coffee cup in stunned silence, not even registering it’s empty.

“Richard, there will be both sales representatives and sparkling wine at this conference, and I want to ensure you are well prepared to take every precaution when a young lady inevitably makes her advances on you.” He smiles. Richard doesn’t. “We don’t want to risk what happened last time.”

“ _Last time_?”

“That doctor’s appointment last Wednesday.”

“The appo-“

“The one you attended after your soirée with Liz.”

The refrigerator hums noisily.

“Jared. I did not tell you about that.“

Jared beams. “Oh, Richard, you don’t have to  _tell_  me anything.”


	3. Jared/Monica - Gentle Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gentle does not mean happy for Dmajor7th.

Even before the door is fully open she can sense the heavy fog that hovers low throughout the apartment — he’s had another one of his difficult nights.

From sight alone you would never be able to tell; his smile is as radiant, as convincingly counterfeited as ever. His eyes, those proverbial windows straight into the soul, have their Atlantic blue curtains drawn tightly closed. It’s only after having known him like  _this_ , closer than he’s ever allowed anyone else, that she can tell from the tautness in his fingers that he is exhausted from hours of tampering down memories no one should ever be in a position to forge.

“Darling, I’m so glad to see you!” he beams, an enormous palm armouring her shoulder. He kisses her with the earnestness of someone afraid of being unmasked.

She feels the heavy leather paddle shift in her tote, hears the low-temperature candles rattle in their box. The Agent Provocateur teddy will have to stay in its silk purse tonight, and she’ll wait for another time to suggest fixing the restraints to the bed frame.

She will not allow herself to be disappointed – that would be terribly, horribly selfish. Jared has shown her so much kindness, so much warmth in the 15 months they’ve been doing this, in her lowest points acquiescing to kitten-soft touches and butterfly kisses. He’s stroked her hair through unsightly cry-outs, massaged her shoulders when the thought of tomorrow’s meeting has left her a shivering, distracted mess. It’s only fair, then, that she should show him the same kindness in his own moment of need.

She kisses him back. She does not sigh. She puts down her bag in the hallway and leaves it there until the morning.


	4. Jared/Erlich - Striptease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The t-shirt being referred to is this one [right here.](https://www.thinkgeek.com/images/products/zoom/a651_try_another_hole_mb.jpg?cpg=cj&ref=&CJURL=&AID=10356324&CJEVENT=bcdbb76cfc0511e8802b02060a18050e&CJID=2470763&PID=4003003&SID=jphhmoz4pd02ad5m001n3&utm_campaign=affiliates&utm_medium=affiliates&utm_source=cj)

_Well, I have salvaged the orchid at least,_  Jared thinks, grasping onto the terracotta pot that Gloria had gifted him on what she suggested should be his birthday. Dinesh’s monitor, on the other hand, lies cracked and dejected on the floor’s sticky patch, a memento from this morning’s melodrama when Dinesh spilled an entire can of soda on the carpet. He thinks of the company budget, worrying if he’s added enough leeway for unexpected expenses this month.

The way Erlich’s rotund figure sways with the kind of flailing gracelessness afforded only to the very inebriated brings to mind the Hippo’s Ballet from  _Fantasia_  — the only movie he caught a glimpse of at his second Boy’s Home. He places the plant carefully onto a shelf so high only he is tall enough to reach, the petals on the head pressed down by the ceiling.

“Jarr-red.” Erlich wheezes, half way between a huff and a slur.  _Euphoriants of some kind_ , Jared suspects, hoping they haven’t been mixed with opioids. Erlich stumbles towards Jared, managing to somehow right himself as he trips over the leg of a desk chair.

“Erlich,” Jared holds out his arms, aiming to guide without touching. “Let’s get you in to bed”.

“Ah, Jarithan, you finally reveal your true designs towards me.” Erlich lunges forward to be embraced, Jared catching him by the shoulders before he has time to complete his advance. Erlich looks Jared up and down hazily, in a manner Jared can only assume Erlich intends to appear seductive. “Whilst I am not naturally disposed to such Twinkish specimens, I am also not one to deprive the delights of my flesh to anyone with such fine tastes.”

Jared’s height gives him leverage but brawn was never his strength, so manoeuvring Erlich’s mass towards the corridor is no simple feat. Still, Erlich is intoxicated enough to be unusually pliant, and he manages to steer both of them towards Erlich’s bedroom.

“Okay, here we are.” Jared says softly, one hand on the doorknob. “Now lets just get you inside and-“

Erlich grabs Jared by the forearms, flipping them both over, slamming Jared into the door which, thankfully, clicks back onto it’s latch before they could both stumble backwards. Erlich is pressing his portly frame up against Jared’s, his forehead damp with sweat and delirium.

“Why hello there.” Erlich purrs, his breath is hot against Jared’s ear. Jared, practiced in not squirming when his personal space is invaded, gently pushes Erlich back a few steps.

“Erlich, why don’t we get you out of your clothes and into your pyj-“ Erlich stumbles backwards, focusing a hazy grin at Jared.

“You bashful wench! You coy hussy! Of course you could never bring yourself to ask, what with having such genteel sensibilities. But!-“ Erlich arches his back, grasping at the rim of his  _When in doubt, try another hole_ t-shirt, teetering precariously on his heels. “I will deliver unto you the greatest, most erotic derobing! A performance so brilliant, so scintillating, so illustrious, your faint and delicate heart will self-immolate with passion!“ he yanks the t-shirt upwards, not noticing the sleeves of his open button-down pinning the fabric firm. He loses his balance and careens backwards, belly on show. Jared lurches forward but is too late as the sharp  _thwack_  of Erlich’s head hitting the wall echoes softly through the corridor.

“Oh dear,” Jared sighs, looking down at Erlich’s slumped form. “This will make  _quite_ the dent in his insurance premium.”


	5. Jarrich - Come Marking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salty.

His eyes have not burnt like this since he opened them in the Dead Sea, on that stupid  _Pilgrimage of St.Thomas the Apostle_  thing he was made to go on as a kid.

He scrunches them shut, not to block out the pain but to help focus his attention onto the sticky slurry of salt and shame crawling down his face. He feels the viscous trickle catch on his lips and pool off his chin, and tentatively pokes out the tip of his tongue to savour the saline taste of impeccable humiliation.

He can hear the laboured heaving of Jared’s chest, can almost feel the way he’s still holding his own heavy, spent cock in his enormous grip.

“Are you alright, Richard? Was that okay?” Jared inquires apprehensively. Richard tries to block out the trepidatious tone, makes to forget the fact that Jared is doing this because he’s been asked to and not through a lust to show Richard his worth. He focuses instead on the indignity seeping into every fibre of muscle, every strand of hair, every pore of skin until he is fully saturated in delectable, devastating disgrace.

“Fine. Good. Uh.” Richard murmurs, lifting his head to hazard a glance at Jared, some dubious attempt at reassurance.

“Oh, Richard, your eyes! They’re ever so red!” Jared cries, his free hand splaying against his chest. His anguished concern makes Richard’s stomach churn and wrenches him away from the glorious, hazy light of peaceful hollowness. He feels Jared’s weight shifting on the mattress, fracturing the moment further, and Richard uses his remaining strength to grasp the pieces tight together.

“Please Richard, let me get you a damp cloth. Would you like a glass of water? I’m ever so sor—”

“ _Thank you_ , Jared.” Richard cuts in, because he could  _not_  cope with a misplaced atonement. He touches his forehead to Jared’s knuckles. “Thank you for this. For helping.”

And maybe one day he’ll be able to thank Jared for understanding as well.


	6. Gavitch - Erotic Branding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning - graphic consensual body modifaction

“That you swore you would never become me,” Gavin says as he rotates the iron in the coals, the serifs of the ‘G’ glowing white. “makes this all the more sweeter, Richard.” 

A droplet of sweat slides down Richard’s neck, pooling into his protruding collar bone and chilling the skin. Richard can’t bring himself to open his eyes, the smell of the smoke and the crackle of the embers already overwhelming him. 

“It’s just ‘sweeter’, actually.” Richard pants hazily. “You don’t need to add the modifier of ‘more’ to a conjugated single-syllable adjective.”

Gavin chuckles softly. “And your pretty bitch mouth just keeps making this all the more better.” 

The room is stiflingly hot, yet the chill of the December wind breezing through the French windows cuts like a knife against Richard’s back. The bricks of coal clunk together as the iron dances between them, making sounds like a muffled xylophone. An ember pops violently, a fleck of ash wafting onto Richard’s bare arm and making him jerk.

“Will this hurt?” Richard whispers. 

“Exquisitely.” Gavin taps off the ashes from the glowing iron. He glances down at Richard’s still form — handcuffed, kneeling and totally motionless. 

“Richard — breath,” Gavin commands softly, and Richard takes in a long, shuddering breath, pressing it out loudly between his teeth. “and be still.”

“Good boy.” Gavin purrs, and sears the monogram into Richard’s shoulder. 

A smell not unlike roast pork fills the room, along with an inhuman wail of agony braided with euphoria. Richard’s whole body quakes in shock as his breath hitches and his mind whites-out. Gavin hooks the cooling iron back onto the rack then kneels down in front of Richard to pull  his slumping body into a caging, gentle embrace. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” Gavin strokes Richard’s damp hair, feeling him wheeze into his shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Richard.  _My_  good boy.” 

They kneel there entwined in the stuffy room, at peace, in silence and together as one.


	7. Jarrich - From Under The Sea's Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble rather than a prompt fill.

From under the water’s surface, looking upwards at the sky from the underbelly of the sea’s skin — at clouds that take shapes you no longer recognise — you realise you will never admit to yourself a truth you don’t want to believe.

But your life has been one whole exercise in treading water, trying to keep yourself above the surface, stop yourself from being taken by the current and just slipping away. Your head may be under now, suffocating you, but you can at least admire how beautiful the beams of sunlight look as they refract through the surface you’re slipping away from.

—

“—and his eyes go dead, like when I tell him I love him.”

_He’sJustAwkwardHe’sJustStressedHe’llGetOveItIt’sAPhaseIKnowIt’sNotHowHeReallyFeels—_

—

“Thank yous” were something you stopped expecting long ago, far longer than you’ve had your current name. Happiness comes in being able to continue, to carry on, to still be allowed to walk through the doors.

Yes, there are many things that you would like, but that would be greedy, and you are undeserving.

—

He has nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep, and you want to invite him back so;  _Take my bed_ , you’d say, without pause, without hesitation.  _Take anything you like, it’s yours._

Your bed, your money, your breath away, take any and all of if, you don’t need to ask. You didn’t ask for my heart, so—.

—

You will die before him. You  _will_. It is not a potential, not a possibility — it is a statement of fact. You will throw yourself in front of the bullet, strap him up in the last life jacket, give both lungs and both kidneys (which you keep in excellent condition, just in case), and every last breath if it means you don’t have to watch your life’s anchor sink into the inky oblivion of the ocean’s floor.


End file.
